Page 79 of Undeniably Enemies

Tuesday goes the same as Monday without the mental bitch slap of Rina and Brecken. I run, I work, I run home. Wash, rinse, repeat. By Wednesday, I feel like I can do this until there’s no getting away from her because it’s suddenly all hands on deck, and she’s my student to manage. A college Devil’s Night party—that started during the day—got out of control, and at least a dozen kids are bleeding, burned, or so drunk we’ve had them loaded up with IVs and emesis basins.

But when you mix alcohol, fear, and stupidity, you get very combative patients. Like this kid on the gurney who has third-degree burns on his forearms and a nasty head laceration across his forehead. He’s bucking and trying to knock us off, which makes me wonder if he’s on more than just some alcohol. If he is, none of his dipshit friends are telling us, so we’ll have to wait for the tox screen to come back. Right now, the dip isn’t showing much other than some marijuana, which isn’t making him react like this.

But without knowing what he’s on and the extent of his injuries, we can’t sedate him yet, and we can’t restrain him because of his burns, so it’s like trying to calm down a bull when all he sees is red. He’s ripped out his IVs, and I can’t start a central line because he won’t hold fucking still.

“Andrew,” I yell in his face. “Calm down. I’m Doctor Kincaid, and I’m trying to help you. Not hurt you. You’re in the hospital.”

He thrashes. “Let me go. Get the fuck off me! I’ll kill all of you if you touch me.”

“What did you take? Calm down.” I glance over at the nurse on my left, who’s trying to hold his legs down, while I go after his shoulders. “Any suggestions?” He and his pack of Mensa candidates tried to set off homemade fireworks. Hence theburns. They’re lucky they didn’t die or blow up the city. I could sedate him, but if I give him the wrong thing, he could also die. “He’s tachycardic with a prolonged QTc interval on EKG. My guess is something with amphetamines.”

“Right. Which could be a dozen things or a congenital defect.” She shakes her head, at as much of a loss as I am. She turns and searches the room, finding a student in the corner. “Plus, his dipstick didn’t show anything. You, check on the labs. We need to know what’s in the tox screen. Go to the lab and sit on them until it’s done.”

The student runs off, and we turn back to the patient, holding him down and hoping he settles so we can start to treat him.

Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I see Wren coming up behind me toward the patient. I shake my head at her. “Get back, Wren. He’s not safe.”

She doesn’t respond. She just gives me a look that says to trust her, and I don’t like it.

I open my mouth to tell her to fucking listen to me when she says, “Hey, Drew?” The kid’s head twists, and his eyes blink in rapid fire at her. “Molly is just down the hall.”

That sets him off, and he starts to scream and up his thrashing to the next level, fighting like he’s trying to get to Wren. Or Molly. I’m holding him down, but it’s tough because he’s a big, strong kid with no appreciation for his own pain, and I’m afraid he’s going to break through my grip and grab her. Anxious sweat prickles my forehead and the back of my neck.

I need to get her out of here, but I can’t release him.

“Wren! Go!” I yell at her, unable to hide the fury and fear in my voice. “Get back.”

She ignores me and continues to talk to the patient. “She wanted me to check on you. She’s worried. She said you need to calm down and that you can’t see her until you do.” She holds up her hands and waves them gently in the air toward him in asoothing motion. “Drew, calm down and listen. Molly sent me to talk to you.”

“Molly,” he repeats, starting to quiet a little. He’s still bucking and jerking away from us, but whoever Molly is, she’s someone who’s getting his attention and focus.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “She’s okay. Her burns are minor, and we put some cream on them.”

The kid breaks down, tears pouring from his eyes like a river. “I hurt her,” he wails. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think it would explode like that.”

Wren moves in closer and puts her gloved hand on the side of his face away from his bleeding cut, and I shoot her a look that saysback the fuck off, but again she ignores me, and I can’t reprimand her in here when she’s talking to the patient.

“Hey,” she coos softly. “She knows. She told me that.”

“Is she mad?” the kid sobs.

“No. She’s worried about you. She said she loves you, and she needs you to let the doctors treat you.”

He sniffles and stares at her for a very long moment as if trying to register her words, and he glances back at all of us, his pupils totally blown out, so it could be any number of things or just a fuck ton of alcohol. “You won’t hurt me?”

“We’re trying to help you,” I tell him. “You have a bad cut on your forehead and some nasty burns on your arms.”

He gulps, and more tears trickle down the sides of his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“We know,” Wren says. “Let them help you. For Molly.”

“I’m going to be in so much trouble. My parents will kill me.”

“Shh,” Wren soothes. “None of that. You need to get better. Molly told me you guys took some ecstasy. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he says, starting to shake now. “I got some from my friend.”

“And it looks like it was cut with a hell of a lot of coke or amphetamines,” the nurse murmurs beside me.

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